SS CH8

Ye Fusheng caught the limp Xie Li in one swift motion, reaching out to rap his knuckles against the boy’s forehead. “You little brat, you always know exactly how to court death!”

Chu Xiwei kept his eyes tightly shut, but keenly sensed the addition of another person. He turned his head slightly in their direction. “The two of you are…”

The woman shifted her feet, circulating her Qinggong to land beside them. Wordlessly, she reached out and took Xie Li. Ye Fusheng turned around. Although the lighting was dim, a source of illumination did exist. He narrowed his eyes and observed her for a moment before realizing that this person was the very same “Old Demon of Black Mountain” from earlier.

At this moment, the woman’s left hand—missing its pinky finger—stroked Xie Li’s face inch by inch. From the strands of his hair down to his chin, she meticulously wiped away even a speck of dust clinging to his earlobe. Her typically clouded eyes achieved a rare clarity, though the bloodshot rims were swimming with mist, brimming as if ready to fall. Yet, in the end, she forced every single drop back without letting one spill.

When she finally spoke, her voice was harsh and hoarse. “Is this… A-Li?”

Ye Fusheng nodded. She held Xie Li tightly for a long while before finally saying, “He’s too thin. Holding him feels like a bag of bones.”

A tone like that… Chu Xiwei’s mind spun with thoughts. His facial expression remained unchanged, but suddenly, an itch flared across his cheek. He was a hair’s breadth away from lifting his palm to strike it away, forcibly suppressing his own instinct.

Unbothered, Ye Fusheng flipped open Chu Xiwei’s eyelids and waved a hand in front of them. “It’s nothing serious. We’ll apply some medicine once we get back, and you’ll be fine in seven or eight days.”

That long… Chu Xiwei frowned. His words, however, were polite. “Are you well-versed in pharmacology, sir?”

Ye Fusheng shook his head. “Just a long illness that makes the patient a doctor, that’s all… Hm?”

Chu Xiwei had suddenly raised his hand, unerringly catching Ye Fusheng’s wrist. He felt his way up, his fingers brushing against the calluses on the web of the hand and the palm.

Grasping that hand, he praised, “A fine saber.”

Goosebumps erupted all over Ye Fusheng’s skin from the touch. Chu Xiwei was just about to continue his examination when his hand was brushed aside.

Ye Fusheng withdrew his hand and smiled. “I am Ye Fusheng, a guard of the Duanshui Manor.”

That right hand unnaturally withdrew into his sleeve, just enough to cover an ancient bite mark on his index finger. Only then did he exhale a sigh of relief, as if he had just hidden a reverse scale that no one was allowed to touch.

Ye Fusheng? The corner of Chu Xiwei’s lips curled up. When did the Duanshui Manor acquire such an individual? A man of zero reputation, yet possessing extraordinary skill.

No matter how many thoughts raced through his mind, his face betrayed nothing. “I am Chu Xiwei. Many thanks for your assistance.”

Ye Fusheng glanced at the shattered puppet parts scattered at his feet, smiling without saying a word.

This man, surnamed Chu, had an unknown background, and his methods were ruthless and decisive. He was neither a member of the orthodox righteous sects nor was he some chivalrous hero stepping up for justice.

For what reason had he risked himself? And why had he saved Xie Li?

Thinking of this, his hands—clasped behind his back—twitched, seemingly stretching his fingers by accident.

The woman crouching behind him shuddered.

“…I’ll lead you out.” The woman stood up, her face devoid of expression. Still clutching Xie Li tightly, she turned and walked toward the hidden door she and Ye Fusheng had entered through earlier.

Ye Fusheng took two steps, then remembered that there was still a temporarily blind “Old Demon of Black Mountain” left behind. Out of the goodness of his heart, he turned back and asked, “Do you need a hand?”

Chu Xiwei lowered both hands and smiled with warm courtesy. “Many thanks.”

With that smile, his frighteningly handsome features instantly softened. His long brows lifted slightly, and his scarlet lips curved up. It was as if a fierce ghost had suddenly been breathed with life, gaining the breathtaking beauty of a thousand trees bursting into bloom.

You were a beauty, why must you… be a man.

Ye Fusheng shook his head, grabbed a corner of Chu Xiwei’s sleeve, and led him to follow the woman.

The area was a sprawling labyrinth with hidden doors connecting various stone chambers. However, aside from the one they had just escaped, there were no more perilous rooms riddled with mechanisms. Realizing this, Ye Fusheng couldn’t help but feel an itch in his hands again—it seemed the little brat wasn’t just begging for a beating, he was fundamentally lacking in luck.

Yet, aside from the mechanism room, all the other stone chambers featured hidden mezzanines. It was as if this underwater secret realm had been split in two. If one wasn’t intimately familiar with the hidden passages here, they could likely only traverse half of it; the remaining half was concealed behind the secret doors.

The exposed chambers only contained simple furnishings and rows of empty weapon racks, likely used by generations of Manor Lords during their secluded cultivation. The spaces within the mezzanines, however, were completely different. Though small, they had everything one needed—food, clothing, shelter, and transport; everything except the very last one. But they were long covered in dust and dilapidated. Someone had clearly lived here once, but their whereabouts were now unknown.

Ye Fusheng kept mental notes as he walked. The “Old Demon of Black Mountain” was as quiet as a puppet letting himself be dragged along, until he suddenly turned his head, his dim eyes staring fixedly at Ye Fusheng.

Even knowing the man couldn’t see at the moment, Ye Fusheng still felt uncomfortable. As if sensing his gaze linger, Chu Xiwei asked, “What are you looking at me for?”

Righteous and bold—spouting nonsense with open eyes was precisely this.

Ye Fusheng blinked, completely shameless. “Your beauty is a feast for the eyes. I want to sleep with you.”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

Walking ahead of them, the woman twisted her ankle and nearly dropped Xie Li onto the floor.

Ye Fusheng tugged at his sleeve, feigning shyness. “I’m a cut-sleeve, and you willingly delivered your sleeve into my hands. If that’s not a hint, what is? I say, why don’t we, after getting out of here…”

Chu Xiwei yanked his sleeve back, cutting him off. “I am humbled by your deep affection, but I harbor no such intentions.”

Ye Fusheng simply finished the second half of his sentence: “…Why don’t we, after getting out of here, go our separate ways and part on good terms?”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

To think there could be someone so brazenly shameless in this world. Unfortunately, his luck was poor, and he couldn’t see the treacherous smirk plastered across Ye Fusheng’s face right now; otherwise, he’d have ample reason to smash his face into a blooming flower.

The hand hidden within Chu Xiwei’s sleeve slowly balled into a fist, yet a smile surfaced on his face. He was born flawlessly handsome; with merely a raised brow and a slight curve of his lips, a bewitching allure emerged.

For no reason at all, Ye Fusheng was reminded of those beautiful, painted-skin, heart-digging demons from the Liaozhai tales. Whether male or female, most were far from benevolent.

He felt that, having painstakingly preserved this life of his, he couldn’t afford to throw it away before fulfilling that promise from all those years ago. He silently chanted “form is emptiness” a few times and turned his head away like a proper gentleman. He deliberately walked with heavier footsteps, so Chu Xiwei could proceed unhindered without needing to be led.

The residual chains on the woman clanked with her movements. Cradling the unconscious Xie Li, she navigated a dizzying series of twists and turns. After passing through the final stone chamber and entering a narrow, elongated corridor, Chu Xiwei—even without his sight—could feel a gentle breeze brushing against his face.

The exit must surely lie at the end of the corridor. At this thought, instead of relaxing, he grew even more vigilant. The world had never lacked fools who capsized in a shallow ditch.

Being blind, he naturally couldn’t see Ye Fusheng’s rare look of astonishment.

This corridor was actually bored straight through a single, massive boulder. There was wind at the end, but no door.

At the corridor’s terminus sat a “Dragon-Severing Stone” weighing over a thousand catties, and the rock walls on either side were reinforced with man-made stone slabs. Let alone a human, not even a fly could possibly escape.

This was supposed to be a dead end.

Yet, upon the Dragon-Severing Stone, someone had hacked a fissure using a weapon. An adult would have to hunch their shoulders and duck their head to barely squeeze through. The stone surface remained mottled with dense, overlapping marks, resembling a cobweb draped over it through the passage of years.

Several snapped, heavy sabers and swords littered the ground. Ye Fusheng finally understood why the armory they had passed earlier lacked even an inch of iron; it had all been broken here.

He crouched down, picking up a snapped iron sword to feel it closely. Aside from the break, there was no other damage. It was clear the person who struck possessed a martial cultivation so profound it was exceedingly rare.

Traces of blood remained on the hilt. Because so many years had passed, the color had darkened, but one could vaguely discern a handprint.

Dripping water hollows out stone; it is not the work of a single day.

Ye Fusheng took a deep breath. He heard the woman say faintly, “This was supposed to be a dead end.”

Ye Fusheng set down the broken sword, tracing the fissure on the Dragon-Severing Stone. “But someone made it out alive.”

“For someone to leave alive, someone else inevitably had to die.”

“If he hadn’t left, could he have achieved the best of both worlds?”

The woman froze for a moment, then smiled. “Timing. Destiny. Inevitability.”

This seemingly disjointed conversation of theirs condensed the clouds of doubt in Chu Xiwei’s mind into rain, elevating it into a dense fog of absolute confusion.

The woman stroked Xie Li’s face with lingering reluctance before handing him over to Ye Fusheng. Her voice was hoarse. “I can only escort you this far. Go, and do not return.”

Chu Xiwei raised a brow. He only heard Ye Fusheng ask, “Parted for so many years, does Madam not wish to see old acquaintances again?”

“I am already accustomed to being a dead person who never sees the light of day.” Her fingers carefully traced Xie Li’s eyes, inadvertently drawing out the motion. It was as if, by imagining what he would look like fully grown, she was reminiscing about someone else.

After a long while, the woman brushed aside the messy long hair covering her face. In her every frown and smile, her former splendor was faintly visible.

“I am afraid that seeing the objects will make me long for the person, and even more afraid that the objects remain, but the people have changed.”

Seeing the objects brings longing; the objects remain, but the people have changed… Either one proved that this woman was a ghost from the Duanshui Manor’s past.

As Chu Xiwei calculated inwardly, Ye Fusheng remained silent for a moment before saying, “In that case, does Madam have any further instructions? Ask anything of me, and I shall not dare refuse.”

“I am a dead person. Do I still need you to visit my grave and burn incense?” The woman chuckled, then abruptly paused. She glanced at Ye Fusheng’s arms and changed her phrasing. “Or rather, you should let A-Li… eat more meat.”

Ye Fusheng blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. “Alright!”

As his voice fell, Chu Xiwei heard a rustling sound of chains being dragged away. Soon, only the breathing of the three of them remained in the space.

Ye Fusheng poked Xie Li’s chest with a finger. The boy instantly choked on a massive breath of air, nearly coughing up his lungs, his small face flushed bright red.

Before he could ask questions or hurl accusations, Ye Fusheng beat him to the punch like a villain complaining first. “Young Master, you may not be very old, but your courage is even smaller! Just that little bit of trouble was enough to scare you into fainting?”

Xie Li: “Cough… I saw a wom—”

Ye Fusheng continued to holler, “Wom-what? Woman? You haven’t even grown all your hair yet, and you’re already thinking about women? What incredible talent!”

Xie Li: “No, I…”

Ye Fusheng: “Right now, we need to get out of this blasted place. Come on, do you see this crack? It’s so narrow. I could only carry you if you turned into an embroidery needle. So look sharp and walk yourself. Understood?”

Xie Li: “…Understood.”

Such an unashamed display of bullying the young and twisting words left Chu Xiwei utterly astounded, deeply feeling that his horizons had been broadened.

At present, the three of them largely consisted of the old, the weak, the sick, and the disabled. Ye Fusheng looked at the little brat who wasn’t even four feet six, then at the temporarily blind “Old Demon of Black Mountain,” instantly feeling that every step forward would be a struggle. Left with no choice, he instructed the two to wait there while he squeezed in like a cat to scout the path.

Passing through the foot-long stone fissure, Ye Fusheng saw a winding stone staircase leading upwards, caked in thick dust from a long lack of use. He carefully felt around for a while and didn’t trigger any mechanisms, assuming it was safe.

The forbidden grounds beneath Wanghaichao were the place where generations of Duanshui Manor’s Manor Lords underwent secluded cultivation. Naturally, it wouldn’t be a hopeless trap with no exit. Thinking of this, Ye Fusheng recalled the massive boulder behind him and the stone chambers split into light and dark sections, the curve of his lips growing wider and wider.

Just as he was thinking, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly from the top of the stairs, as if someone was dragging their feet, slowly walking down.

Ye Fusheng’s gaze sharpened, his right hand instinctively reaching for his waist, but grasping empty air. He froze, the trace of resignation on his face shifting into a bitter smile.

The footsteps drew closer. Accompanied by the faint, eerie glow of candlelight, a figure descended the steps holding a white paper lantern. Dressed in blue robes and green scholar’s clothes, the pale face was tinged with an iron-grey pallor—looking exactly like a ghost.

Ye Fusheng cupped his hands in greeting. “Manor Lord Xie.”

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